


This Should Be Fun

by flamingburningfandomtrash



Series: Worth A Shot [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Crying tho, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Pregnancy, Slice of Life, cutenesss, i will actually die with soft underfell sue me, just read it and stop looking at tags you nerd, this is really long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23695066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingburningfandomtrash/pseuds/flamingburningfandomtrash
Summary: In which a soul bond goes not as expected... kind of.This is just a fluffy clingy Underfell mess whaddya gonna do about it
Relationships: Sans (Underfell)/Reader
Series: Worth A Shot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711018
Comments: 30
Kudos: 120





	This Should Be Fun

**Author's Note:**

> ... yeah i just posted them both so what

You’re staring at the little pregnancy test in your hand, your other hand over your mouth. This… this wasn’t supposed to happen. Well- kind of. Your head shoots up when Sans knocks on the bathroom door, rather forcefully. The back of your head hits the wall, and you grunt with pain, rubbing the sore spot.

“‘ey, doll, you been in there a while, you plannin’ on comin’ out anytime soon?”

His voice sounds slightly worried- probably because you just smacked yourself and just had to yell about it. God, you’re bad at this…

“Uh… one minute,” you say, loudly, to mask the tremble in your voice. 

You have to hide this thing, you realize, looking at the little wand in your hand. He’ll find it if you put it in the trash can, and if you try to flush it, it’ll just make a mess. You can’t take it out with you, he’s probably going to check your pockets or something when you aren’t looking… um… you tear a big handful of the tissues out of the tissue box and stick it inside, stuffing them back in when you’re done. Oh geez, oh geez, oh geez…

You walk out of the bathroom, trying to walk fast so Sans doesn’t see how pale your face is. He does. He catches your arm, not even looking at you at first, then tilts up your chin to make you look at him. 

“baby. what’s wrong.”

“Nothing!”

“that’s bullshit. you think i’m stupid?”

“Of course I don’t-”

“then what’s wrong.”

“I… I’m… I’m fine,” you stammer: you can’t get the words out like you want to, you just can’t say it. You feel your stomach do flips when his eyelights twinge with hurt. Whenever he knows you feel like you have to hide things, it makes him feel like he failed you somehow. You know this full well, having seen it before.

“doll, please. you’re shaking.”

You frown a little- you are, aren’t you.

“I’m just cold, that’s all.”

“. . .cold.”

“Yeah.”

“you’re tellin’ me, that nothing is wrong, at all. and you’re just pale and shakin’ ‘cause you’re cold.”

“Yyyyes…?”

He sighs and releases your arm and chin, shaking his head.

“whatever. you come back ta me when ya wanna tell me what’s wrong wit’cha.”

“Okay!”

You wait until he goes into the bathroom, and the door clicks shut, locked. Then you make a shaky dash downstairs, stumble into the bathroom, pull open the toilet lid, and throw up. God, you hate throwing up. Nausea is the absolute worst. You even tried not eating too much today to make sure it wasn’t too bad: but bile is almost worse, somehow. The emptiness makes your stomach ache, even as your body tries to retch out things that aren’t there. After you’re finished, you reach up and paw at the flush button until it works: if you don’t hold it down, it doesn’t do anything but hiss. You probably need to eat something now, so you don’t lose all your blood sugar. God, this is going to be harder than you thought. You stagger to your feet, and turn back toward the door-

“you look cold.” Sans deadpans, leaning on the doorframe. 

You open and shut your mouth a moment, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse for this. He ignores you, but instead chooses to come forward and pick you up. Carefully this time, instead of just flinging you over his shoulder like he typically does to make you laugh. You relax into his arms, sighing heavily. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He carries you to the couch, still holding you in his lap.

“you sick? that what’s up? i mean, damn, baby, that looked painful.”

“I…” you don’t want to lie to his face again. It just hurts.

“you’re scarin’ me. ‘m not gonna get mad at’cha.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I just…”

“hey, this isn’t because of the bond thing from October, is it? i dunno what happened, if that’s what gotcha sick…” his voice sounds heavy with guilt, and he rubs your arm.

See, you soul bonded a few months ago. It was supposed to produce a third soul, a kid, right? As a result of the marriage and everything. Monsters did it, his idea. Now, he had no idea how it was going to happen between a human and a monster, but you both wanted to try nonetheless. 

It didn’t work. 

Well, the bonding part did: but just before the third soul could create a body, it sort of… attacked you. It went straight at you, knocked you backwards. You passed out for several hours. Sans had been scared as hell, but, you had lived. You woke up the next morning panting and sweaty and tired and, oddly, kind of horny. Whatever, you’d decided. A bond is a bond, and you might not be ready for kids anyway. But, now you think you know why that soul went inside you. You’re human. Just because the thing has a conjured soul doesn’t mean it can make a body out of magic all on it’s own, like a monster child might be able to. 

So apparently, that’s where you come in.

And you honestly don’t know why you’re scared to tell him. A number of different reasons, maybe. You’re nervous he’ll think you’re cheating on him, because this is happening the human way. You’re worried he’s not going to want it to happen anymore, since it’s going to put you through this much discomfort and pain. Maybe he just won’t want it regardless. You’re worried he’s going to get angry, you’re worried he’s going to hate the kid, you’re worried about whether or not they’ll even survive. It’s the first interspecies child, and maybe it will be a failure. Maybe they’ll die, and… well, you’re honestly not sure you could handle that. 

“baby,” he murmurs, when you press into him, turning your head to hide your burning eyes. “hey, baby, shh… what happened? please, i wanna know if yer hurt.”

He’s petting your back almost anxiously, you can feel his soul speed up- feel his anxiety build in your bonded souls. You have to tell him- you know you can- and you want to! But you can’t, and you won’t, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts…

“I… I’m, I-I’m… I’m pregnant,” you stutter, choking on tears. “I- I promise I wasn’t cheating, Sans, they’re yours, I swear they’re yours…”

You’re honestly not surprised by the look on his face, necessarily, when you look- but it certainly doesn’t help your anxiety. It’s just pure shock, frozen for a moment. When he finally manages to break out of it, he breathes,

“you’re serious?” You nod, swiping at your eyes, waiting for him to start yelling. But instead he hugs you tightly, laughing a little. “it worked. oh, oh my god, it worked, i’m gonna be a dad! holy shit! holy SHIT, i’m gonna be a dad. baby, you’re gonna be a mom! oh shit!”

You pull back to look at him: he’s smiling broadly, nuzzling you, hugging you tightly. He meets your teary eyes with a soft smile, squeezing you.

“hey, i know you weren’t cheatin’ or nothin’. you wouldn’t do somethin’ like that, i know ya wouldn’t. baby… baby, it’s okay. i dunno how it works for humans, y’know, this way, but we’re gonna do this together. breathe.” He holds you for a few more minutes, you clinging to him tightly, him laughing occasionally and rubbing your back. “i’m gonna protect ‘em, ok? we’re not gonna let anythin’ bad happen to ‘em, i swear.”

“People don’t kill on the surface like they did in the Underground,” you remind him, quietly. “It will be… fine, I hope… god, I hope I don’t mess this up.”

“no, you’re not gonna mess it up, you’re gonna be a great mom.”

“That’s not what I mean."

“what do you mean?”

“They’re… a hybrid. They aren’t human, they aren’t monster, and- and if it’s a mess, and they die- or- god, I hope I don’t die, that would be-“

“wait-wait- what do you mean, if YOU die?” he interrupts, sounding quiet and scared.

You spend a few minutes explaining how it works with humans: the nine months of discomfort, the labor process, the… occasional death rates. For both the mother or the child. How it’s not as common anymore, especially not with modern technology, but there’s never a zero percent chance. And this is… new. Different. Nobody’s done this before. So it might go wrong, and it might go great, but nobody knows. At the end of the spiel, he looks a lot more nervous than before.

“and, it’s not a bad sign, all the throwing up, right? i know it’s been happenin’ for a while, i thought you just had a bug or somethin’, and… maybe we shouldn’ta done this…”

“No, that’s normal. Everything right now… it’s all normal. We’re going to have to go to a doctor and get me looked at soon, but right now I think everything is fine.”

“not a doctor…” he mumbles. You know he hates the idea of you going to the doctor, even if it’s something as small as a checkup or getting meds for a bad head cold: Alphys was essentially the only doctor in the underground, and she had a bad habit of experimenting on people as well as trying to help them. Sometimes more of the experimenting than the latter. He doesn’t want anyone to hurt you, not ever. Especially not a human with needles and drugs and knives on their side.

“I know, but doctors are good. I know there are bad ones, and I know they freak you out, but lots and lots of doctors are really good. We can find someone good.”

He nods, looking put out anyway. “we gonna do all that gender reveal party and baby shower stuff?”

“No… I mean, unless you want to. It’s the easiest way to get free baby stuff- you’d be surprised how expensive it gets- but I’m sure Toriel would be happy to help us with that.”

“mm-hmm.”

You just sit together for a minute, your head on his shoulder, his on yours, breathing in tandem and holding onto one another. Sleepy and excited and nervous and scared. You can feel the little baby bump under your shirt, faint as it is: and here you were thinking you were just gaining weight, heheh. You pet it a bit. His hand comes over it, too, curious and gentle.

“is that where they are?”

“Well, only a little bit. Not too much yet. But yeah.”

“…you got anythin’ else you wanna tell me? you still look nervous.”

“I just… I don’t know, I… I really want this, but there is SO much that could go wrong. And I don’t want you to give up on it if it causes me a lot of pain, okay? Because it will, and I need you to just keep holding on with me.”

“not gonna give up on this. i promise.”

You nod- to his satisfaction, your face relaxes significantly. Though it hurts to know you were that worried about him giving up on you. He rocks you back and forth on his lap, hand in yours, your tiredness seeping into him. You can be really stupid when it comes to taking care of yourself: well, Sans isn’t exactly a genius about it himself, but he always reminds you. He couldn’t bear to see his angel all broken up and messy like him. Even if it makes him a hypocrite. And he knows you’ve been puking your guts out lately, he just assumed you’d tell him sometime soon. Not to mention you look like you might just spontaneously pass out at any given moment. Sleep deprived. He’s been waiting, but not for long. Not after he stayed up last night to see if you were sleeping and found you staring at the wall opposite you, silent tears on your cheeks. God, just seeing that made him want to kill someone. Hurting his baby girl. He thought someone was beating you up or something, he had no idea this was (partly) his own fault. Even if he didn’t mean it. 

“alrighty then- let’s getcha some meds and a nap, ok? we need to get you lotsa sleep if we’re gonna have a healthy baby, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, relaxing into him. “Thank you.”

He picks you up, softly stroking your back. He’s usually pretty rough with you, whether for fun or for attitude or for dominance: but for the next while, he knows he’s going to have to be gentle. It’s honestly not his style… but he’d do anything for you. Over the next few months, he’ll learn. And besides: he needs to be able to be gentle, he’s going to have to learn how to hold a baby. That makes a little smile come to his face. A little version of him, and you. Will it be a boy, or a girl? Will it be monster-like, or human-like? What are you going to name them? He’s terrible at naming things, you’ll have to do that mostly by yourself. 

He frowns a little when he realizes he’s going to have to tell Papyrus.  
He is not going to be happy.

~~~~~~

You wake up in the middle of the night when you hear someone whispering. It’s soft, tender, gentle. You think you must be dreaming- it sounds like Sans, sure, but it’s the middle of the night. And besides, he’d eat his jacket before he says anything like this.

“- i’m gonna help take real good care’a ya, ok? i love you and your mom so much… won’t let paps stop this, i won’t let anybody stop it. you’ll be my lil’ sweetpea… my sweetpea. you ain’t dyin’ on me, sweetpea, you’re gonna hold out for your mom and me, you’re gonna stay. and when you’re all grown up, and date someone… well, i gotta be honest, i don’t think anyone’ll ever be good enough for ya. just like i think there ain’t nobody good enough for your momma. you’re gonna be… well, you’re gonna be just as great as she is. heh, you’re gonna be a bit of a bitch, i don’t doubt it, but that’s just me. maybe give all the kids runnin’ after ya some sass. i think i’m gonna have fun with that. i’m gonna love ya so much, sweetpea. already do.”

You smile faintly in your sleep, shifting slightly. You hear a small intake of breath, finally let out in a soft sigh. You feel the pad side of a claw trace over your lips, across your eyelids, down your nose. 

“look at her, sweetpea. at yer momma. she’s so perfect. you’re gonna see her first, i’m gonna make sure. heh, you don’t need the first thing you see to be my ugly self. you need somethin’ perfect, like this. all soft and… and… damn.” You hear a little hiccup- is he… crying? “god, you’re gonna love her so much. you’re gonna love her so much, like i love her, like i love you. you’re gonna think she’s the greatest. don’t care what you think about me, sweetpea, so many people know i’m a worthless little shit, but she doesn’t think so. she thinks i’m good enough. i’m not, but… i hope ya like me, too. i hope ya really love me. i hope i can give ya reasons to like me, sweetpea. i swear i’ll try, for you and… and yer mom.”

Another soft silence- you think you might cry, actually, that was the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard him say. He puts his hand on your hip, smoothing his thumb over your belly lightly. His hand is shaking, you can feel the light trembling of his hand as it drifts over the little bump. It stops moving, abruptly, and then moves to pull you closer to him.

“don’t- god, don’t die on me, sweetheart. couldn’t find a reason to live without’cha. i need ya, so, so much… die if you weren’t here, ‘f you weren’t mine. off myself. yer all’ve got. please.”

You murmur, opening your eyes a little and letting the tears fall off, dropping from your cheeks to the sheets under you.

“I’m not going to die. That’s a promise.”

You can feel Sans tense up, his hold around your back and on your hip tightening just the slightest bit before trembling instead.

“i love you, baby…”

“I love you, too. Now, sleep,” you say, coaxingly, pressing your nose to his cheek in an eskimo kiss, nuzzling. He chuckles, a hitch still in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere, not tonight. Just breathe.”

He shifts closer to you, until he can pull his whole body around you, making sure not an inch of you isn’t subject to his embrace. A soft purr builds in his chest, the first you’ve heard in a long, long while, coaxing you off to sleep.

~~~~~

“Sans, I’m just pregnant, I’m not made of glass,” you say, when he keeps you on the couch instead of letting you do any chores. This is the first time you’ve seen him do the dishes in weeks, though, so you aren’t going to put up that hard a fight.

“yeah, well, i’m just tryin’ to make up for this happenin’ the hard way instead’a the normal way, like it’s supposed ta.”

“Sans, this IS the normal way.”

“not for us, it ain’t. just, relax.”

You nod, shrugging. “Hey, if you insist I not do any work, I’m not gonna stop you.”

He huffs and rolls his eyelights, picking up another plate. “well, you got any name ideas? you know i’m jack shit at naming things.”

“I don’t know… I was thinking Zoe or something, if it’s a girl. I don’t know, I just keep thinking of girl names, not guy ones. Just, none of them FEEL right.”

“yeah, me too, a little. i keep callin’ em- uh- well, ne’mind.”

You squint a little when his face goes red, and he goes back to scrubbing the dishes. You think you know what he was going to say, though. A few nights ago, when you heard him talking about how much he loved you, he was calling them “sweetpea.” Now, call you old fashioned, but that just doesn’t seem like the nickname for a boy. But, hell, you might have twins- or triplets! Who knows. 

“Yeah… I don’t know. Maybe Charlie, if it was a boy. I like Charlie.”

He nods, setting the last of the things into the dishwasher and popping it shut with his foot. He crashes by you on the couch, stretching and looping his arm around your shoulders.

“still haven’t told boss.”

“Sans, he’s your BROTHER, not your boss. I don’t get it. I mean: yeah, he can get kind of mad sometimes, but he isn’t going to kill you over thi… welllll…”

“exactly,” he grunts. “though i’m much more worried he’s going to try to get rid of this kid.”

“You mean, like, beat me up?”

“somethin’ like that,” he murmurs, angrily. “babies freak him out. they used to be- this is gonna sound horrible- just free EXP. vulnerable and stupid and annoying. parents would kill kids, kids who could survive would kill other kids, they’d have raids on houses with little toddlers and stuff. anything you could do to get stronger. if you wanted a kid, you had better do it in secret, or they’d be dead before they turned two. but… here, everyone’s so careful with ‘em. protective, but not because you’re scared someone’ll kill ‘em, but you’re worried they’re gonna get hurt anyway. so, if you’re not allowed to kill babies, they’re just weird… meat beanbags. cute, but weird. i’m used to it for the most part, but boss still isn’t.”

You always get a little sad when Sans tells you about his life in the Underground. Kill or be killed. Maybe both, in that order. Sans couldn’t be killed because Papyrus was protecting him, so he was in the clear most of the time, despite his low HP, but… he was always scared. For his brother, for himself. He hated all the violence, you can always see the disgust in his eyes when he talks about it. Sure, it was the only way to do things: what else was he supposed to know? Didn’t mean he had to like it. He’d rather change someone’s mind than attempt to kill them on the spot, but that wasn’t what he was taught. Adding all the pressure Pap put on him? You know he’s more broken than he lets on.

He doesn’t break the silence- you rub his arm.

“You’re not nervous that’s going to happen here, are you?”

“don’t think it will. people’ve changed, and there’s enough space around here that you can hide a kid if you need to. but, y’know, still… instincts. i don’t want either of you getting hurt.”

“Don’t feel like you have to protect me all the time, that’ll break you.”

“heh. like i wasn’t already broken.”

You turn to him, putting both hands on either side of his face, a stern expression on yours.

“Sans, I know you-“ his eyelights go serious when your voice breaks. “I know you’re broken, and I know it, too. But that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. You’re… you’re great. And I just want to FIX it, and try to make you feel better, but… I know you need time. I need time. Just- you think you’re not going to be good at this, you think you’re… you’re worthless… but I promise, you love her so much, and that will be enough. You’re not worthless, because you mean everything to me. Don’t ever think otherwise.”

His face softens, and he pulls you up onto his lap, leaning you against him.

“you remember what i said?”

He’s referring to last night- did he honestly think you couldn’t hear him? “You nearly made me cry, bonehead, it was so sweet, everything you said… wish you’d talk like that more often.”

You can feel his face warm up out of embarrassment, along with the red glow in the corner of your vision. He doesn’t say anything for a long second, perfectly still and silent.

“maybe- maybe i will. uh… you think she can hear me? i mean, if we’re callin’ them a she for now.”

“I think so. I think she’s listening and waiting to meet you.”

He smiles, drifting a hand over your little baby bump, the thought of a beautiful little version of you making his soul have both a soft warmth and a burning protectiveness. NOBODY will hurt her. Or you. Never you, of course not: but this has new challenges. 

“I think she’s getting all hyped up about me, since you talk about me so much, and when she sees you she’s gonna start smiling, ‘cause she’s gonna have two great parents.”

He squeezes you, resting his forehead on the crown of your scalp, brushing a light eskimo kiss there. You frown, hoping you might be able to tease the conversation away from sounding so gloomy. “I keep waiting for you to give me a REAL kiss, and you keep treating me like I’m gonna fall apart if you hold me too hard.”

He growls playfully and tilts your mouth to meet his, slightly surprised about how hard you come on, immediately pressing so hard he can feel your teeth behind your lips. He teases your mouth open, slipping his tongue in, nipping your bottom lip and doing all of his normal little tricks. He dips down from your mouth, across your jawline, down your neck, over your collarbone, nibbling and nuzzling, leaving faint pink spots behind after him. When he finally meets your eyes again, you have a small pout on your face.

“what? didn’t do it right?”

“I want to do sexy stuff, but I think I’m going to throw up again in a minute…”

He chuckles and nuzzles your nose, pressing your forehead to his. “i can wait. ‘sides, i wanna talk to her more while you take a nap.”

That makes a genuine smile come to your face- the kind that makes him smile back at you, because it just makes him happy. “Can I listen?”

“nah,” he says, teasingly. “you’ll be nappin’.”

“Yeah, well- oh, hold up,” you try to stagger to your feet, but when he realizes what’s happening he just shortcuts you to the bathroom and places you in front of the toilet, holding back your hair. When you’re done- he realizes he’s starting to get desensitized to your nausea episodes, which is nice- he helps you to the sink to wash your hands and face and brush your teeth to get the taste out of your mouth.

“better?”

“Better.”

With that, you head back to the bedroom to take a nap.

~~~~~

“Okay. We got two choices of things to do today,” you say, warningly. Sans squints at you, not liking the way your voice sounds. Your ‘this is going to happen whether you like it or not, and you probably won’t’ tone. “You’re either telling Papyrus he’s an uncle now, or we’re scheduling the first doctor’s appointment. We have to do both eventually, but you get to pick which one to do first.”

He grumbles a little bit, even though he knows he will have to face it after some time. Question is, which is worse? He should get the worse one over with first.

“pap’s. you oughta stay here, i should talk to him myself.”

“While I appreciate that, I don’t want him to kill you and-“

“there is no chance you are coming. if he tries… anything, you are not going to be anywhere near him. actually, i think you might wanna hide somewhere until i’m back and we know we’re in the clear.”

You shake your head, eyes sad. “He’s your brother, I… I just don’t get it.”

“i want him to like me, y’know. i want him to. he just doesn’t.”

“That’s his problem, then. His loss.”

“heh. alright- you remember the spot in the closet with all the pillows?”

“Panic spot?”

“yeah, that one. you can just hide in there and read a bit. ‘f i text ya, i’m gonna come getcha and we’re gonna run hide somewhere until boss calms down. if you don’t get anything, and i come home, we’re safe.”

You kiss him lightly, stretching. 

“Don’t let him hurt you, either, I’ll check you for breaks AND bruises.”

“ok. no promises, though.”

“Alright.”

You reach up and hug him after he’s pulled on his shoes- he hugs you back. At the beginning of your relationship, he never did that. He thought hugs were a sign of weakness. You’d taught him- after a long while- that hugs were signs of strength. Lifting the other person up out of their worry, or sadness, or pain. Giving them a smile. He hugs you back nowadays.

“bye, doll. heh, bye, sweetpea.”

You giggle as he kisses your forehead and your tummy, jabs a thumb at the closet, and vanishes. 

~~~~~

“SANS. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Papyrus asks, hands on hips, at the front door. Sans remembers why he didn’t want to do this.

“uh… i gotta tell ya somethin’, boss.”

He squints, not looking very pleased with this. “WHERE IS YOUR HUMAN?”

“she- uh- she’s home.”

“WHY?”

“look, can i just tell ya what i gotta tell ya first?”

He crosses his arms, but steps back to let Sans into his house. Just like Sans left it- well, a little. Much cleaner than he left it. Much… emptier. Damn, it feels weird to be back here again. It puts him on edge. 

“SIT,” Boss commands, pointing to the couch. Despite Sans having previously told himself he was his own adult now, and not his brother’s little slave, he obeys the command. Probably because he was going to sit anyway… right. “NOW WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HUMAN?”

“uh- nothin’ happened to ‘er, she’s just… look, she’s just, well; pregnant. we’re havin’ a baby.” 

Boss stares at him for a long minute, shock melting into suspicion. 

“THAT ISN’T POSSIBLE.”

“well, not like we thought it would-“

“I KNOW HOW HUMAN PREGNANCIES WORK, SANS, AND THAT ISN’T POSSIBLE. BY ALL STANDARDS, WE DON’T HAVE-”

“listen to me, a’right?! i dunno what’s happening either, and i’m tryin’ to get all this together, so listen to me.” Surprisingly enough, Boss falls silent. “alright. she’s pregnant, and that’s that. you’re gonna be an uncle. you gonna try to kill her or what.”

Boss sits down across from him, crossing his arms and sighing heavily.

“Do you realize the risk of what you’ve done?”

“well… yeah. we know she might get hurt, or the kid might get hurt, or whatever. we’re gonna have the first doc appointment soon, we’ll figure out what we gotta do.”

“Sans…” he looks so tired, like he’s explaining algebra to a preschooler. “Not THAT. OBVIOUSLY there will be risks like that. I mean how the public will take this.”

“the public? the helld’ya mean?”

“You’ll go to a hospital to have the kid, to lower the chances of any accidents. Best case scenario, everyone is healthy and everything goes according to plan. Do you honestly think this thing is going to look HUMAN? No. It will have red eyes, or be a skeleton, or have claws- or something. And I doubt you follow the news: but things like that go on the news. Especially the first recorded interspecies child: can you imagine the publicity you’re going to get? Anyway, the type of people who see that will vary, of course, but a good portion of them will not be happy about it. And what are these people going to do when the little human goes to school, or goes outside, or does anything in public? They will pick on them, at least, and kill them at most. And your human… well, she will have her own issues, for being with you in the first place.”

Sans’ soul drops into his shoes. He’s not wrong… god…

“and… are you gonna hurt ‘er?”

“NO,” he says, forcefully. “OF COURSE NOT. THEY WILL BE MY FAMILY, IF NOT COMPLETELY MONSTER, AND IF THEY ARE ANYTHING LIKE YOU THEY WILL NEED MY PROTECTION. THOUGH ADMITTEDLY I WOULD THINK IT BETTER IF THIS HAD NEVER HAPPENED IN THE FIRST PLACE… WHO KNOWS. MAYBE IT WILL TURN OUT TO BE GOOD FOR YOU.”

Sans nods, gratefully, not smiling or giving Boss any other signals. He nods back.

“I understand the idea of a family makes you happy, brother. So I will give you that. But do not overstep boundaries so far as to harm yourself or the people you care about. While I understand you would kill and die for them: it would be generally better for everyone if you chose neither option.”

“heh… yeah.”

“AND I WILL NEED TO TEACH YOUR OFFSPRING HOW TO FIGHT AND COOK, AS WELL, SO I WILL GET A SCHEDULE READY. WE WILL NEED TO MAKE SURE THEY CAN DEFEND THEMSELVES AS SOON AS THEY ARE ABLE TO WALK.”

“uh, heh, i dunno about that, boss, uh, but i appreciate the offer.”

“HM. WELL, THE OFFER IS ALWAYS AVAILABLE. HAVE YOU TOLD TORIEL YET? SHE WOULD GO INSANE OVER ANOTHER HUMAN TO MOTHER AT.”

“not sure i want more raw snails shoved in my face just yet. just thought we’d tell ya, y’know, ‘cause you’re… well, gonna be an uncle.”

“YES.”

After a long, awkward pause, Boss admits,

“I would like to see your human again, Sans, if you are willing to let her come with you. While I understand the smaller human has not arrived yet, I would love to have them both in my home.”

Sans softens slightly. (Maybe everyone’s getting a little softer on the surface. And maybe that isn’t such a bad thing.) “sure, boss.”

“And let me know if it is a boy or a girl. Girls are feistier. Fight with more malice.”

“heheh, will do.” Another short pause, before he stands. “i gotta head home. she’s waitin’ on me.”

“YES. YOU MAY GO.”

With a slight eyeroll, Sans shortcuts out. Papyrus sits back, stuffs his face in his hands, and groans, long and loud.

“HE’S GOING TO MAKE SO MANY DAD JOKES…”

~~~~~

“nope, nope, we can go tomorrow, we do not have to go today,” Sans insists, while you drag him towards the car. 

“A doctors appointment is overdue. I have to make sure everything is going smoothly, and if you’d like to stay here while I go, then that’s fine.”

He grunts, annoyed. You really know him too well. It’s annoying sometimes. “you know that’s not gonna happen.”

“And that’s exactly why you’re here. Now get in, I’m driving.”

He hops in the passenger’s seat, annoyed. This probably DID need to happen: doesn’t mean he has to like it. Nope. Not at all. But, hey, you’ll find out if it’s a boy or a girl. That would be nice. He knows if it’s a boy he’ll need a different nickname, but he can’t help but feel like sweetpea is going to be the one. He just knows it. 

Everything is coming along nicely at home- the spare room with all of the junk in it was converted into the nursery. You’ve bought plenty of diapers and toys and things for it, and it’s the brightest little place in the house, but you need to know what baby clothes to get, what stuffed animals, what color this and that. You’re ahead of the game by a long shot, he knows that- nobody but you (and maybe Boss) would prepare this early, but here you are. All you need is the baby.

“so, uh, what doc are we goin’ to?”

“Doctor Denison. She’s supposed to be one of the best in her field, and when she heard about our situation she said we could come in for free for our first appointment. She’s curious, I think. I’m glad, it would have been really expensive otherwise.”

“you nervous?”

“A little. Just don’t freak out, okay? I don’t want them to make any judgements about you based on a little protectiveness.”

“yeah, ok… but if she hurts ya-”

“She won’t, nobody will. It’ll be fine. Oh, while I’m thinking about it, I need some maternity shirts, mine are a little tight right now…”

He kind of wants to tell his past self things sometimes. He’s considered making a list. Some of them are serious: don’t try to kill yourself, you’ll find someone who really loves you if you just wait. Papyrus cares more than he lets on, don’t let him beat up on you too much. You aren’t worthless. Others are just little fun bits of information- shops he wishes he could have found sooner, roads that aren’t as crowded to get home faster. One, though, that he takes note of at the moment, is that you look really cute in that shirt. Especially with your little bump. Him, and you, and his sweetpea.

“Why’re you making that face?” you ask- he’s grinning at you like a dope, hands in his pockets. 

“uh, heh-” he turns away quickly, face glowing red. “nothin’.”

“Heheh… you’re a riot.”

“and you’re crazy. we all got our problems.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When you pull into the front office, you grab his hand. At first he thinks you’re nervous, but then you whisper, “PLEASE let it be a girl. PLEASE let it be a girl.” He has to agree. He’s gotten really attached to the idea. With that, you both step out of the car and into the office. He cringes at the smell. Antiseptic and tile and paper. Like a certain lab he’s been toyed with inside of more than a few times. He finds himself side-stepping to get in between you and the people walking around here, just in case. It’s not like you don’t notice, but you don’t say anything. He’s just making himself feel better about this, and it isn’t hurting anyone. 

The waiting room for the maternity ward calms him slightly. Soft purple walls, pamphlets, downy pillows and cushioned seats. A few more women- some are alone, some are with partners, some with mothers. A few are with kids, which you think is sweet. Adorable. They all shoot Sans a look when the two of you come in, and he finds himself to be slightly intimidated by their stares. He stares at the ground, while you tug him into the seat next to you. 

“why’re they all lookin’ at me like that?” he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Nobody’s judging you. It’s fine.”

He relaxes slightly. No doctors, no funny smell. And you seem perfectly fine. You pick up one of the little pamphlets, skimming through them and pointing out little details you find about the first appointment to him. “Only a few shots, it says. See, only a couple needles, that’s something. Heh, I think you’ll think the ultrasound is going to be weird, humans have a weird way of doing it.” He follows your finger as you read softly. Your voice is a good pacifier on his anxious soul- though he does jump about a mile when a nurse calls your last name, rather forcefully, from the front of the room. You wave and stand, tugging Sans along behind you. The nurse shoots Sans that judge-y look, then points down a hallway. 

“We’re going to be in room six, I’ll meet you in there in a minute.”

You smirk a little as you walk down the hallway- “She was excited,” you say, under your breath.

“tell me about it.”

Sans hesitates at the door before he enters the room. Cushioned examination table with a bit of disposable paper on the top to keep it clean. A chair with metal footholds, tilted back a bit. It looks a bit like something you might see in a dentist’s office, but comfier. A computer monitor on a cart in the corner, plugged into the wall. A bolted-down chair in the corner, spinny desk chair for the doctor. After approving it in his head, he walks in and crashes into the regular chair- he’d probably take the spinny one, but they make him dizzy. Not that he would ever admit to such a weakness. You hop up onto the exam table, crossing your legs under you and humming pleasantly. It takes the breath out of you, but you don’t mind. Just a side effect, it’ll be fine.  
You both jump when the tired-looking nurse practically materializes by the door- was it open before? You don’t remember.

“Just a couple questions before Dr. Denison comes to see you.”

“Sure,” you say, pleasantly, kicking your legs out from under you to sit normally. Look like an adult, you tell yourself. Kid at heart, adult on the outside. Keep it cool.

She asks you a few simple questions, looking slightly uncomfortable on the “sexual activity” bit- Sans IS a skeleton, you can understand how it might not make sense to her how this was happening in the first place. Honestly, neither do you, really. She nods and leaves when she’s finished- not thirty seconds later, before you’ve gotten a chance to take a breath, the stuffy nurses’ polar opposite bursts into the room in a flurry of papers.

A woman with a huge head of black curls stumbles into the room, dropping all of the things off her clipboard and onto the floor. “Dang it,” she exclaims, right before she hits the ground. Sans instinctively catches her with a little bit of blue magic, lowering her to the floor carefully. She doesn’t seem to understand what happened, but instead shrugs and sweeps the documents back onto her clipboard- you find it impressive, frankly, how she can make this much of a mess and clean it up so quickly and neatly. The whole incident happened in less than ten seconds. She looks up at you with bright eyes. 

“My bad! Hello!”

“Hi!” you blurt, a little louder than you intended, a shocked smile on your face.

“Are you our lucky momma?” she asks. She gets to her feet and shakes your hand- it takes you a moment to register that she said that. It makes you happy to hear the title. You open and close your mouth, with no idea what to say. Sans looks at you stuttering and laughs loudly, grinning at you.

“yep,” he says, half-sarcastically. His little comment backfired on him, though.

“OH! Oh my goodness, you’re the dad, it’s so wonderful to meet you, I don’t see monsters in here often!”

She shakes his hand emphatically- it’s all a puff of black curls and a smile so white Sans thinks it’s going to blind him. Like a mad scientist, if mad scientists were excited to the point of snapping in half. 

“thanks, heh. you seem… nice.”

She grins, curtsying in her lab coat- “I try to be! First-timers are always really nervous, I try to help a bit with that. Well; actually, I’m jumping to conclusions here, it might not be your first time! Is it?”

“Oh, definitely,” you manage, laughing.

“Lucky guess, then, you don’t seem nervous at all! Well, let’s get started!”

~~~~~

Sans walks out of the doctor’s office, holding your hand in his lightly, a genuine smile on his face. Your grin is so wide he thinks it’s going to split your head in half. A girl. A- healthy!- baby girl. His sweetpea. Despite everything, she seems fine. Hearing the little heartbeat made you cry a bit- it had sure as hell gotten him close. So small… 

His soul hasn’t ever felt such opposing feelings in exact tandem. On one hand, he wants to take care of her, of you, to never leave, to just sleep and talk softly. To just be gentle and loving, and everything you are that he can never be; because that would take away everything he is. He wouldn’t know who he was if he wasn’t the fierce defender. The hard shell, which he will only lower for you. To make you smile for him. Though the pull on his soul is making him want to change that. On the OTHER hand, he doubts he’s ever felt this much energy. This much instinct to KILL anyone who so much as GLANCES at his sweetpea the wrong way. Anyone who doesn’t immediately recognize how beautiful she is- well, will be. She’ll take after her mother, he’s sure. 

“I can’t believe it! We’re- we’re gonna be parents, and- and- this is just so- I can’t- babe, you’re gonna be a dad!”

He smiles to himself. Yeah. Maybe not great at it, no, but a dad anyway. Man, there are so many dad jokes he’s been waiting to use until now… or maybe all of his jokes were dad jokes all along, and only now has he gotten the chance to call them anything other than “bad jokes”. 

“yup. and you’re gonna be a mom.”

“Oh wow. Oh wow.”

“mm-hmm. you’re gonna be the best. we’re probably gonna spoil her rotten.”

“Between fighting lessons from Papyrus, I’m sure.”

“heheheh- yeah, right.”

“Alright- we gotta swing by the grocery store to get the stuff for this diet plan thingy she gave me,” you say, looking at a little paper in your hand. “Keep Andale healthy.”

“who’s andale?” You open and shut your mouth, then mutter, “shoot.” 

“what? who’s andale?”

“I just- I looked up font names, you know? Because, I know skeletons have font names, and I wanted to surprise you! Like, “look, she’s a skeleton, like you”- and I’ve been calling her Andale in my head because that’s the one I really liked, and-“

He interrupts you with a kiss, sudden but soft. You jump a little, but soon give in to it. His eyelights are looking at you with so much awe and pure adoration that you start blushing: but that only makes him love you more.

“baby- you did that for me?”

“Well... I wanted her to be OURS, not just mine and a little bit yours. Just because I’m human, and it’s all happening the human way, doesn’t mean she’s only mine. I wanted her to fit in with you, too. She might be a little bit outcast everywhere, because she’s going to be unique, but I wanted her to fit in with us. With her family.”

Sans thinks he’s going to melt. It’s the only thing he can think to do. It’s too serious to laugh, too wonderful to cry, too worrisome to smile, too perfect to frown. It’s just… well, just that: perfect. You saw a hole in the puzzle, and no piece to fill it, and you carved one yourself. He loves you for that. He loves you so much he thinks it’s going to kill him. Not a bad way to go, dying of love. At least in his book.

“she’s gonna feel right at home with us, doll, she’s gonna love everything.”  
“She’s gonna love YOU,” you say, booping your nose to his and continuing to tug him along. “Now, we have groceries to get.”

“lead the way.”

~~~~~

“Oh my god,” you yelp, during a movie- he looks at you, worried, when you put your hands on your stomach. Months, now. Seven months. Still a little ways to go, but your baby bump is significantly more prominent now. Less of a bump and more of a hump. (Still cute, though, in Sans’ opinion.) “Oh my god!”

“what?” he asks, holding onto you, putting his hand over yours. He feels a little thud on his hand, almost… from the inside of your belly? “holy shit, is that bad? is this it?”

“No, no-no-no, that’s a kick! She kicked me!”

He looks at you, confused. You sound… weirdly excited by that fact. Not bad excited, though, he notices, relaxing. It’s good weird. He’s had a lot of near-heart-attacks (if he had a heart, that is) trying to find the difference lately. 

“is that good?”

“It means she’s… here. Moving.”

He starts to panic again, inwardly- your voice is thick with emotion, and you sniff a little. Happy tears, he assumes, but tears all the same.

“This is real. This is REAL,” you murmur, rubbing your stomach and jolting slightly when she kicks again, a little harder than before.

“you didn’t think it was before?”

“I… I keep waiting to wake up,” you admit, laughing tearily. “But I haven’t yet, and this feels REAL.”

“all’a this is real,” he says, firmly. “if it wasn’t, i would know. i would wake up by now, and i’d wake you up. and we could… i don’t know, make it happen for real. but i think this has to be real.”

You nod, still rubbing your belly lightly. “I want to tell her that everything’s okay, because that’s starting to get a bit- geez- uncomfortable.”

He slides both hands just under your shirt, rubbing slightly when you shiver. (He has cold hands, what can he say.) Using a little bit of green magic warms things up just fine, though. Green magic makes humans tired. Maybe a little sleepiness would work. Sure enough, you relax, and he feels the little thuds stop. He lets you relax against him, curling up as best you can, trying to get comfortable. 

“there…” he says, quietly. He frowns a little at the tears still on your cheeks, wiping them away with his hand and flicking them away. “no more tears on your pretty face, babydoll. you’re really scarin’ me lately…”

“I know, I’m sorry. Can’t help it.”

“i know. you’ll be safe.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince YOU, not me.”

“i am.”

“Oh.”

A little silence before you press your forehead into his shoulder lightly, humming. He hums back, an odd peace washing over his soul. Peace. Hope. You’re going to be alright. You’re safe as long as you’re in his arms. And that sure isn’t changing anytime soon, if he has anything to say about it. 

“Can I go to sleep?”

“yeah, baby. get some sleep.”

You conk out near immediately, your cheek slumping into his chest. He rubs your back a little- your skin has gotten softer. Maybe that’s a creepy observation, he concedes, but it’s true. You’re all rosy and glowing and soft. Not any less fit, though. You do not let this baby stop you from working out. Apparently- as long as you don’t push yourself too hard- fitness and dieting and things like that are supposed to help with babies. He doesn’t question it. More than a few little things have changed around here, lately.

You don’t seem to mind. He’s just… noticed. Whereas at one point, you liked to tease and hide and prank, and just be a little chaos-magnet in general: now you’re too tired for most of it. When you aren’t working out or (trying to) help around the house, you’re laying down or sleeping. He can see it in everything you do. Your eyes want to do things that your body can’t handle at the moment- that little craziness-monger is still inside you, but on the outside, it’s not. 

You aren’t the only one who’s changed. Sans feels so much more protective of you. Always needing to be close to you, holding you, nuzzling your face or neck or hair. He wears soft clothes, almost like bait to get you to hug him. And, yeah, he still has a part of him, just like he always has, that wants to slam you into a wall and kiss you until your lips bleed, to pound himself into you on the nearest surface until you’ve gone over the edge a million times just by the look he gives you: but it’s smaller now. A quieter voice. Which is a relief, honestly, because there were points when that voice got so loud it hurt- so now at least he gets a break.

The old Sans- pre-you Sans- would be disgusted by him, he’s sure. Weak, and not keeping his guard up, sending easy smiles and- and being healthy. Getting enough sleep. Heh, maybe pre-you Sans would be jealous, he thinks. He wished he could have this freedom, this safety, this relief. Relief. Heh. It truly is relief from the life he used to have. Kill or be killed, living in constant fear of death. Here… the only thing he has to worry about is you. 

So maybe he has gone soft.  
What’s so wrong with that?

~~~~~

You wake up in the middle of the night, covered in something wet. You freeze- you didn’t pee yourself, you’re positive, and it’s not sweat. A lurch of tight pain shoots through your abdomen, and you whimper a little. Okay, yeah- your water just broke. This is it. You pull on Sans’ sleeve, cringing when you feel another sharp wave of pain. 

“Sans, wake- ngh- wake up. We have to go.”

He blinks awake, immediately worried when he sees your face. Your breaths are too harsh, your forehead is already beading with sweat. Yeah, you’ve had little contractions before, but nothing like THIS. He nods, taking off his jacket and pulling it around you, picking you up as best he can. You cringe, letting out little groans as it starts picking up. How did you miss this? It’s supposed to happen slowly, you need time… something’s wrong, this is too fast.

“We have to go faster,” you say, cringing hard and whimpering when another stab of pain hits you in your abdomen. 

“ok- ok, it’s ok, you have to breathe. breathe. i can shortcut us there.”

“That’s too far, you’ll hurt yourself. We can d-drive.”

“don’t care.”

“Sans.”

“i don’t care. come on, breathe, please.”

Despite the hospital being five miles from here, Sans stands in the front yard, gathering magic and preparing to take you that far in one jump. You keep spasming, cringing, moaning, pressing your head against his chest and begging him to help you. He can’t, he knows he can’t. Healing magic would make you sleepy, make the baby sleepy. You both need to be awake, need to be ready for this. He doesn’t want to hurt you by mistake. 

And he jumps- shortcutting, grunting as he feels the darkness tearing at him, trying to pull dust off of him- landing in front of the hospital. You put a hand on his face, worried, but he shakes his head and keeps walking. Not today, he is not letting you die today. He’s going to get you to safety… he has to. 

~~~~~

You don’t remember much. It’s mostly a blur of pain and Sans and white hospital walls. You know his jacket is on you, you can feel the weight on your shoulders, comforting, warm, protective. You remember yelling as they forced him away from you, when you got set on a hard bed and whisked off somewhere. You remember hoping he didn’t hurt anyone. You remember, in your soul, where you could feel his, the deepest pitfall of fear. Not anxiety, not anger, not sadness- terror. And you remember a hundred nurses- or maybe only three- working around you, trying to help you. You remember screaming: but you’re fairly sure that was all you. Pain. That shaky fear in your shared soul. The only comfort in the room was the jacket. 

But now you’re the one who’s afraid.

Everyone is too loud. Everyone is yelling at each other, calling out orders of some kind, bringing towels. You don’t gather much, because your own cries are a bit too loud to hear over, and your mind is clouded with pain. You hear things like “losing blood”, and “just a little more”, but that’s about it. With a last push and a groan, you know you’re done. You can’t do much more.

“Oh my GOD,” one of the nurses says- you see one of the others do a Hail Mary. You don’t get a chance to see the baby before she’s taken away from you.

“No- what- what happened, is she okay?” you choke, worried and tired and anxious. 

“Relax,” you hear the word, but you don’t care who it came from, it’s a useless word. Relax? When Sans isn’t here, and your baby isn’t here, and the atmosphere of fear and pain is so thick you think it will choke you? “They’re just taking her to… clean her up. Breathe, you did a good job.”

“Where’s Sans,” you choke. “What happened, they made him leave, I need him…”

“Who’s Sans, sweetie?”

“My husband, where is he?”

“The big skeleton who walked you in?”

“Yes, please, I need him!”

You can’t see very well. You’re exhausted and panicked and teary- there’s nothing you can do about it, either. If you tried to get up you think your legs would buckle out from under you. Your knees slump apart, exhausted. An odd feeling of grief washes over your soul, depressing and tiring. It leaves no room for panic. You take a breath and sink back into your pillow, staring at the ceiling.

“Ma’am, just rest- you’re going to need some sleep, you’ve had a rough delivery. When you wake up I’m sure he’ll be here, yes?”

You nod slightly, even though you don’t believe a word of it, and close your eyes. So tired.

~~~~~

Sans carried you in, arms shaking, soul on the verge of splitting in two when waves of your pain came over it. Not because it hurt that badly- feelings get slightly faded between souls- but because it was hurting YOU badly, and he didn’t want that. Doctors ran up, asked a handful of rapid-fire questions, and started to take you away.

“wait-“ he said, tripping after you- “no, she is not going without me!”

A few nurses held him back, rather forcefully: “We do not allow monsters in the labor ward, sir, it frightens the patients,” they said. Bullshit. He’s the father, for god’s sake, they can’t take you without him! Your pain was getting worse, it was ramping up his panic and anger and fear. He knew he could kill everyone in this room, everyone in this HOSPITAL, to get to you, but…

… he knew he wouldn’t.  
He didn’t have the heart to kill anymore. 

That hit hard. He couldn’t do it. They had families and dreams and fears and aspirations and children of their own. To kill would take something out of everyone’s lives. With that realization, he finally stopped resisting. The nurses led him to a nearby waiting room and made him sit. Alone. Without the feeling of anger left in him, all that was left was fear. 

People came in and out. Nobody asked him why he was there, at least, not at first. By the pain in his eyes and hopelessness in his posture, everyone knew he was waiting for someone. A young woman who, to Sans’ comfort, was also very pregnant, put a hand on his arm and asked him what was wrong. Normally he didn’t think he would say: but she reminded him too much of you to deny the question. He explained about your situation, the separation, the “no monsters” rule. A tight frown formed on her face, and she turned to someone who Sans assumed was her husband.

“Babe, they won’t let him in to see his wife.”

“Why?”

“Some stupid no-monster rule. Help me up, I’m complaining to the staff. That’s a made-up ass rule if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Alright.” He has the air of someone who’s used to just going along with things. Sans can appreciate that.

She turned to Sans, crossing her arms as best she could over her stomach, and explained her plan: Sans had already heard it, but he was very appreciative all the same. Who knows, maybe they would actually listen. Humans have crazy double standards. Though, to be fair, it did surprise him when she came back with a nurse, who looked like he was about to kill someone. Which brings us to right now.

“Who told you they didn’t allow monsters back there?”

“uh- some people takin’ her back there, i dunno,” he admits. “couple’a strong ladies.”

“God, Deborah and Allie…” he mutters under his breath for a minute, an angry fire in his eyes. “Sir, I am happy to get you back there right now, but if the delivery is already well under way I don’t know if I can get you right into the room with her, is that okay?”

Sans is on his feet in a second. A chance to get to you. “yes.”

“Good- and I would thank her, ‘f I were you, I never would have heard about this without her.”

The woman smiles and shakes Sans’ hand, cringing slightly and putting a hand over her own belly. 

“Heh- sorry. Need to sit down.”

“no prob,” he says, nodding. “thank you.”

She waves it off and sits back down behind him- meanwhile, Sans follows… well, he realizes he didn’t catch his name, so, Angry Nurse Guy will work. Sans follows Angry Nurse Guy through a labyrinth of long hallways until Sans hears an awful lot of screaming and panting. It freaks him out to hear this much screaming outside of the Underground, actually, but he wouldn’t say that. Because one of these rooms has you in it, and he needs to get to you. Angry Nurse Guy looks from a clipboard, looking down a list of names, across at a number, and walks him down a few more doors to one where a handful of nurses have congregated. Two are walking out with a squirming, messy bundle of blankets, and the rest are all walking around your bed, cleaning things off, talking in low voices. Sans is relieved the door is open, if feeling terrible for missing the delivery. 

“-like a little demon!” he hears, which makes him stiffen up.

“Did you see the hand? Thing had a little skeleton hand!”

“Who the hell is the dad, anyway?”

Right here, he wants to say, but he can’t. It’s like his soul is caught in his throat- well, if he had one. He approaches the bed, and the nurses part for him, hurriedly changing the topic to other things when he passes through. Though he can feel their eyes on the back of his head. 

“baby, you awake?” he asks, shaking your shoulder.

You glance over your shoulder, a little bit of sadness in your eyes. When you see him, though, you soften and roll over, holding out your arms. He hugs you as best he can while you’re lying down, murmuring reassurances, apologies, praise at doing so well. You’re alive. You’re okay. He cares so much about his sweetpea, but he’s never met her. He’s met you. And right now, no matter what happens, he needs YOU to be okay.

“everything go ok? shitheads wouldn’t let me through earlier,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. 

“I’m fine,” you say, quietly. “I don’t know what happened to Andale, though…”

“don’t worry about that right now. what matters is that we’re both here.”

You nod tiredly, returning his affection with a feather-light kiss to his forehead. Your face darkens slightly when you see the deep bags under his eyes- anxiety exhaustion, you’d bet- but he’s smiling at you sadly, like you’re the only bright candle in a dark room. 

“rest, doll. i’ll wake ya up if i get any news. you need a minute.”

You nod, lace your fingers with his, and relax. He watches you with a smile, despite you not closing your eyes just yet. The nurses are still staring at him, shooting him glances at the very least. He gives them all a sweeping look, his grin settling into his usual vaguely-threatening glare. 

“where’s our daughter?” he asks, deadpan. Intimidating without trying. 

“Probably being cleaned off, she should be back in a minute,” one says, quietly, not looking at him directly. 

“we both know it ain’t that simple. where is she.”

“We deliver. We don’t inspect,” he says flatly. “If the delivery was a failure, you would know right off the bat, but once they’re out of our hands, they’re out of our hands, sir.”

He nods, slowly, then settles back down beside you, waiting. A minute passes, then two. After what he thinks must be the longest five minutes of his life, Angry Nurse Guy sticks his head in the door.

“Sir, could you come with me a moment?”

Sans nods, leans down to kiss your forehead- because at this point you need all the reassurance you can get- and follows. Another labyrinth of hallways, before he arrives in a small room. Rows of little cart beds, with little babies in them. Sans knows none of them are his. Their souls aren’t a part of his. Angry Nurse Guy leads him to a small pink bundle that one of the nurses is cradling near the back of the room. Soft crying is coming from it, Sans can hear it from here. He wants to fall apart at that noise. His… sweetpea.

“See,” Angry Nurse Guy explains, cutting into his thoughts, “we don’t know if she’s… alright. She’s healthy by normal standards, but, well.”

He pulls back the towel, with a little fuss and help from the nurse holding her, to reveal the strange amalgamation. At first glance, it’s beautiful, healthy baby girl, but… there are a few odd things. Her left hand, for starters: it’s a strange graft from skin to bone, a skeleton hand. Sans doesn’t know whether it will be a crutch or some sort of super-hand. That would be cool. A small birthmark, heart-shaped, on her right cheek. Pale as death, not all rosy like (Sans assumes) babies are supposed to be like.  
But when her face isn’t all screwed up, and her eyes blink open- that’s the seller for Sans. All-black eyes, with little irises of red. Just like his. He holds his arms out- the nurse hands her over, helping him support her head. He’s just, sort of… in awe. 

“hey, sweetpea,” he breathes, holding her with one arm and lifting the other to run a finger over her little chubby face. Heh. Squishy. She lifts up a hand and grabs ahold of his finger. “damn, you got one hell of a grip, don’tcha?”

She blinks open those red eyes of hers, relaxing significantly and inspecting his finger like it’s the most interesting thing in the entire world. He chuckles and lets her look, only daring to pull away when he remembers you’re waiting on him. 

“can i bring her back? so my wife can see ‘er?”

“Oh- well, yes, but are you sure she’s alright?”

Sans laughs, tilting her a little so he can see her. “look’t that face. she’s the happiest sweetpea in the goddamn world.”

With that, he turns and waltzes off with her in his arms, not caring what the nurses think. His baby. His sweetpea… YOUR sweetpea. Together. Finally, something you have together. Something you can both call your own. He curses under his breath when he remembers she was supposed to see you first, and not him, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She keeps reaching up with those little clenched fists of hers, trying to touch his face. A quiet little thing. He assumes she was just disoriented at being separated from her soul-matches. Just like Sans is bonded to you, she’s bonded to the both of you: in a different way. It’s terrifying to be torn from that feeling, he knows as much. He supposes, as she’s a human child, too, she’ll do her fair share of crying: but maybe it will be less so as long as she feels safe. It would definitely show her relation to him. He doesn’t care what’s happening if him and the people he loves are safe.

Down the hall, to the right: and there you are. He smiles at you as he comes in, still rocking the small pink bundle in his arms. You lean up weakly, trying to see inside, fear in your eyes.

“Is she in there, is she okay?”

“’s fine, shh… hey, andale. sweetpea, look. it’s yer momma.”

He holds her out to you gently- your eyes go wide with wonder when you see her, all little and swaddled up. He chuckles, handing her over, and settles in the hard chair beside you, leaning in to look himself. You don’t have any words.

“ain’t she the prettiest lil’ thing?”

“Takes after her dad.”

“oh, stop it. ‘m not this squishy, that’s all you,” he scoffs, nuzzling your cheek. The tandem, crushing feelings. Care for. Protect. Care for. Protect. The same, and yet not. The two sides of the same coin. His soul is full to bursting with it. It’s all love.

“I don’t wanna fall asleep or I’m gonna wake up and lose all this,” you murmur, kissing Andale on the forehead and cradling her close. “Don’t leave, okay? Just for a minute.”

“‘course not, doll, i’ll stay ’s long as ya need. here, i’ll take her,” he says, lifting her out of your arms and smiling. “rest, babydoll. you did so good. thank you.”

“I love you.”

“you, too, baby…”

“you, too.”

~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> should i make a follow up work from POV of Andale because I may have already written some of it and-
> 
> [Sneakyfox55 made me some fanart of Andale here](https://www.deviantart.com/sneakyfox55/art/His-Sweetpea-838434546) and I love it  
> I love it when y'all make me fanart it feels so special thank you so much~~~


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